


could this be love at first sight (or should i walk by again?)

by ShippingEverything



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash, Sort Of, ernst is latino and hanschen is filipino and everyones Of Color, theyre all people of color because i do what i want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: Two Ships Passing isn't exactly the right descriptor but it's one that worksor: three times ernstkind ofmeets hanschen and one time he actually does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternalsovereign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsovereign/gifts).



> this has taken me basically an eternity and it's not even that much and i apologize for that tj but i Hope you appreciate it. they're in different chapters because,,, idk it just stylistically looked better than just using a divider 
> 
> title from love at first sight by the brobecks

“Don’t look now,” Anna says as she hands Ernst his iced coffee, “But that guy’s in here again.”

Ernst immediately tries to look casually over his shoulder, but Anna hisses an angry _“I said don’t look!”_ at him and he turns back around, tapping his foot nervously.

“Why would you tell me if I can’t even see who it is?” He asks. Anna rolls her eyes.

“Well he’s only been in here watching you every day all semester.”

“He has _not_ ,” Ernst denies on instinct, but truly he has no idea. _He_ hasn’t noticed anyone paying particular attention to him, and without being able to even look at the other person, he can’t for sure say that he hasn’t seen his mystery watcher a more-than-normal amount of times.

“He _has_ , you dummy,” Anna says, matter-of-fact. “Especially since you started working out before coming here. Guess the post-run glow really does it for him.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Ernst, who is wearing a sweat-stained tank-top and a pair of shorts that shrunk in the wash so they’re just this side of too short, hisses and shoves at Anna’s shoulder, “Now I _know_ you’re just winding me up. I look like a just climbed out of a dumpster.”

“I mean, you’re _right_ but that doesn’t mean that _someone_ isn’t super into it-”

“You’re the worst,” He says, rolling his eyes at her laughter, “I don’t even know why I come here.”

“Neither do I, honestly,” Anna says, waving at him as he begins to walk away. Ernst shakes his head.

“Guess this is bye forever then, loser,” Ernst calls, turning to walk backwards for a moment so he can see the discrete middle finger that he _knew_ he was going to get for that. As he’s spinning back around to leave, his eyes catch on someone else’s in the shop, just red-brown eyes behind a pair of thin gold glasses and a tuft of bleached hair over a laptop. His golden skin flushes when their eyes catch, and Ernst blushes sympathetically, but he doesn’t stop looking at Ernst like he’s some bizarre and interesting new species. Ernst smiles apologetically, in a sort of _Sorry I barged into your study space and was loud and annoying with my friend_ way, and the person turns even more red, ducking behind his computer. Ernst shrugs the encounter off as just embarrassing an academic who didn’t mean to get pulled into his antics, and sips his iced coffee as he walks to class.

He doesn’t remember what Anna said about a guy watching him until he’s in bed that night, and by then he’s forgotten all about the encounter while leaving.


	2. Chapter 2

This is not Ernst’s house. Ernst would like that to be clear, especially to the people who keep coming up to him and asking him questions as if it’s his place, because it’s very much not.

He’s at a party at Moritz’s because- well, honestly, there are a lot of reasons, but mostly it’s because Moritz doesn’t know how to say no to people and wants to impress his new roommates and Ernst is a good and supportive friend, but Moritz disappeared like thirty minutes ago and, for some reason that’s probably racism, Moritz’s roommates keep telling people he’s Moritz. _We don’t even_ look _alike_ , Ernst inwardly grumbles as he has to deflect yet another weird and owner-specific question from a party-goer, _We’re just both Latino, that’s literally it_. After looking for Moritz or, you know, _anyone_ he knows, Ernst decides to cut his losses and just go home; better to sit alone in his dorm than to suffer through this. When he goes to retrieve his bag from Moritz’s room, it takes him putting Moritz’s spare key in the lock and turning it to realize that it’s not locked anymore. Ernst purses his lips, mentally weighing the possibility of walking in on someone having sex over the agony of having to _come back later_ for a bag that has his best phone charger in it, but ultimately decides to knock and walk in with his eyes covered. When he’s not immediately greeted by moans or kissing noises, he uncovers his eyes to find a single person with gelled blue-ish hair sitting on Moritz’s rug, playing with Moritz’s cat, Egg.

“Uh,” Ernst starts, “Hey there.”

The other person looks up, far more relaxed than someone who’s trespassing probably should be, until he sees Ernst. Then, eyes widen and quickly turn their head back down towards Egg. “Is this your cat?”

“No, it’s my friend’s. This is also this room, which was locked.” Ernst says, though his voice lifts at the end like it’s a question.

“Oh, yeah. I picked it.”

Ernst makes a face, somehow both raising and furrowing his eyebrows and laughing in shock. “You _picked_ the lock?”

The person shrugs. “Yeah. It’s loud as fuck out there.”

“I mean, _yeah_ ,” Ernst agrees, “You can’t just pick locks and pet other people’s cats, this isn’t _your_ house.”

“And it’s yours?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then you’re kind of breaking the rules too, right?” The person asks, looking up at Ernst with a smartly raised eyebrow and a smirk. His brown eyes looks familiar, but Ernst can’t quite place the face and he’s sure he’d remember an undercut that shade of teal on a guy that pretty. Ernst holds up the key and the person’s face drops. “Or not.”

“Listen, I just came in here to get my bag, but I’m pretty sure Moritz doesn’t want people in his room or bothering Egg-”

“Egg?”

“The cat. Her name’s Egg, short for Princess Eggshell,” Ernst explains, gesturing at the pale cat now purring in the stranger’s lap, and then bulldozing over his confused expression “But that’s not the point right now. I know this party like, sucks, but you have to leave because I have to lock up before I go, and I’m going now.”

The person stands and Ernst- expected him to be taller, honestly. He’s almost a head shorter than Ernst, who’s not exactly _a giant_ at 5’8, but he holds himself like he’s bigger, holding his head high even as he’s being all but kicked out of a party. Still, seeing how confident he is in a situation where Ernst would be an embarrassed mess is attractive to Ernst in a way -- one where he can’t figure out if he’s actually into it or if he just wishes he had the trait.

Still, Ernst feels the need to straighten up under the scrutiny as the stranger gives Egg one last pat and Ernst one last look before leaving.

“That was weird, right?” Ernst says to Egg, who just stares blankly at him before leaping onto her cat tree. Ernst sighs and grabs his bag, locking Moritz’s door and making his way out.

Not his house, not his problem.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for alcohol use in the this one, pov character is drunk and there's a minor line abt alcohol easing his nerves

“Hey! I know you!” Ernst yells down the hall at one of Wendla’s castmates after Wendla’s improv show. The castmate jumps and then squints at Ernst, as if to say _Are you talking to_ me _?_ “Yeah, you! I’ve seen you before.”

The castmate pales for reasons Ernst doesn’t understand, grimace pulling at his full lips. “I’m not sure that I-”

“No, it’s definitely you. Your hair’s different but you’re it, Cat Guy!” Ernst grins, any nerves he might have about talking to a handsome near-stranger soothed by the cheap wine he’s been drinking all show (and the pregame vodka-orange fanta he had at Georg’s room _before_ the show). Cat Guy has maroon hair now and the sides of his undercut are longer than they were before, but it’s the same guy, the same deep eyes, the same presence. He even has literal cat whiskers, drawn onto his face during one of sketches, and it makes Ernst laugh. “Even more literally right now, I guess. But you were the guy from Moritz’s party, with Egg.”

Dark eyes light up and Cat Guy releases a breath. “Oh, yeah. That. I’d… almost forgotten.”

Ernst doesn’t have time to respond to that, maybe to ask why Cat Guy looked so nervous if he didn’t even remember breaking into Moritz’s room, but he’s interrupted by Wendla exiting the green room and frowning at him.

“Ernst, sweetheart,” Wendla says, in her Dealing-With-A-Wasted-Friend voice, “Aren’t you supposed to be waiting with Georg? You know, back in an area where people who weren’t in the show are _actually_ allowed to be?”

“I don’t need a _chaperone_ ,” Ernst scoffs, “And stop using that tone with me, I’m only tipsy.”

He’s undermined by how he stumbles when Wendla pushes gently on his shoulder, his balance out of whack, but he still stands by his statement. Ernst is a lightweight, he knows he’s a lightweight, but he’s not _that much_ of one.

“Okay, honey,” Wendla says, still gentle though she looks to be on the brink of laughter. She turns to her castmate, who’s still there and warily watching the two of them. “I’m sorry about Ernst, he’s not usually like this.”

“We’ve met before,” Cat Guy says, nervously, “He was less…”

“Drunk?” Wendla offers. Ernst takes two tries to hit her in the arm, sticking his tongue out.

“No offense to you, because I really liked the show and you guys were great, but it’s definitely better when you’re under an influence,” Ernst says, thinking only after the fact that it’s a bit mean to say, even if it’s true. Cat Guy laughs once, sharp, and then looks embarrassed that he did. Ernst grins at the sound. Cat Guy has a surprisingly cute laugh

“We know,” He tells Ernst, “It’s one of the top things that we consider when we’re planning showtimes, if people will be able to pregame beforehand.”

“Oh, well, as long as you know your audience,” Ernst says, voice sliding just this side of teasing. Cat Guy goes vaguely pink and Wendla clicks her tongue at Ernst.

“Let’s stop harassing my improv friends and go find the rest of the group,” She says, pulling at Ernst’s arm. “See you tomorrow, Hanschen.”

Ernst obediently follows Wendla, with minimal tripping, but still waves goodbye to Cat Guy -- Hanschen, he supposes. Hanschen waves back, looking a bit shell-shocked by this turn of events, and Ernst can’t help but laugh. God, he loves going to see Wendla’s shows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> improv show enjoyment comment comes from literally my own mouth and hanschen's response comes from bff, who's in a sketch comedy group. i love my bff to pieces but God his shows are better when you're Not Sober


	4. Chapter 4

_Two years_ , Ernst thinks to himself as he rushes across campus, running to class, _Almost two years and I_ still _can’t manage to remember which Wedekind building my class is in_.Ernst is sure, intellectually, that this happens to lots of people because his college has _four_ buildings named after the Wedekind family, but every time it happens to him it makes him feel extremely dumb. Still, he manages to make it in time for his class, if only because the professor is late too.

She lectures for half the time, Ernst taking diligent notes on his laptop -- even if he opens Twitter a _few_ times, and then introduces a new project. At the end of her explanation, she says, “And I’ll even let you pick your own partners.”

Ernst looks around for anyone without a partner and spots a familiar face: Wendla’s castmate from the improv show, Hanschen, Ernst thinks. Ernst catches Hanschen’s eye and waves, raising his eyebrow in a silent question. Hanschen looks bewildered but shrugs and picks up his laptop to walk a few rows up to sit next to Ernst. 

“I didn’t know you were in this class,” Ernst starts, for lack of anything else.

“I was in another block for this class, but she let me switch times,” He explains, running a hand through the now-brown long part of his hair. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, though.”

“Why, do I not look like someone who’d be into American classics?” Ernst asks, keeping his tone light despite how he’s taken slight offense to it. He’s sure Hanschen doesn’t mean anything by it, but he’s heard more than enough cruel comments about people _“like him”_ studying America. 

“It’s not that, it’s just that Wendla said you were a bio major, so I didn’t think you’d take am English class like this.” Hanschen explains. “Most science majors just take the basic English 1010 and then something ‘easy’ like Creative Writing.”

“Well, if Wendla talked about me better, then you’d know that I’m double majoring, bio and cultural studies,” Ernst says, smile turning more real. “I’ll have to tell her to get it right when she gossips about me.”

“She doesn’t, really,” Hanschen corrects quickly, ears turning pink. “I asked, after the improv show.”

Ernst grimaces apologetically. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I don’t usually get that messy.”

“It was fine, I was just shocked.” Hanschen says, “You always seem so put together-”

“Always?”

Hanschen’s eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes twice. He flushes and clears his throat before speaking again. “I just see you around, sometimes. Your friend group is very… _enthusiastic_. You’re all easy to spot.”

Now it’s Ernst’s turn to blush, thinking of the kinds of impressions that Hanschen could’ve gotten from seeing him around his shockingly extroverted friends. “I promise, I’m more normal than my choice in company suggests.”

“I’ve only had a few conversations with you, but I don’t know if I could agree,” Hanschen says, with a small, unsure smile like he’s not sure that he’s allowed to make the joke.

“I’ll just have to change your mind, then,” Ernst chuckles, shaking his head. “Still down to partner with me.”

“Well, I’ve got to give you a chance to convince me,” Hanschen says, putting out a hand. “Partners, then?”

“Partners,” Ernst agrees, grinning. This might actually be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two things:   
> 1\. please imagine hanschen interrogating wendla but trying to be chill about it (unfortunately for him, wendla's smart so she's still able to figure out that her ernst is hanschen's Cute Guy who he keeps talking about during Stretch And Confess)
> 
> 2\. it takes ernst two weeks to figure out that he never Officially introduced himself to hanschen or vice versa but he's not sure what to do about it so it takes literally four months until ernst learns hanschen's last name because he's finally in range when hanschen introduces himself to someone else. sometimes college is just like that

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and i hope u enjoyed!!!!!
> 
> [Main Tumblr (liveinlivingcolor)](http://www.liveinlivingcolor.tumblr.com) | [Writing Tumblr (nacreousglowclouds)](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Personal Twitter (@squidias)](http://twitter.com/squidias)


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